This plan is risky, but if we time it just right we'll be fine.

It's the fateful day in which Alouette will enter the library, and she's terrified.

Harry went to his bedroom about ten minutes ago, which means she doesn't have a lot of time to make her way down the corridor and catch him just as he gets out.

Alouette stops right behind the corner, trying to calm down her quick heartbeat. She can't look like she just ran all the way here. After some moments she turns the corner and slowly, very slowly, walks into the corridor, hoping she'll get it right on the first try.

Thankfully, she does.

Harry steps out of his rooms, and she takes advantage of his distraction to make her way towards him quickly. By the time he closes the door, she's right in front of him. He's wearing a black overcoat, and Alouette tries her best to look surprised.

"Oh! You're leaving?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Does it disappoint you, Lark?" He turns around to type in his code, and Alouette takes one small step to the side so that she's standing right behind him.

She raises her head a little bit and glances over his shoulder while keeping a safe distance between them. "Maybe it does, a little bit," she replies so that he won't get suspicious. From her position she can easily see the code as he puts it in, but he can't notice she's looking since she's behind him.

3294715.

Alouette repeats it a few times in her mind, until she's sure she's memorised it. She takes a step back again, and he turns to look at her.

"Whatever it is, I'm afraid it'll have to wait," Harry tells her, walking down the corridor, and she goes after him. "I'm quite busy at the moment."

"I'll be waiting, then."

They turn the corner and she walks back to her desk as he makes his way to the lift.

She sits on her chair and rips away a little piece of paper and writes down the code before sneakily putting it into the pocket of her trousers. She'll make sure to get rid of it as soon as she doesn't need it anymore.

She checks the time. She has exactly twenty-five minutes before Nathan loops the cameras of the upper floor. He told her he's done it many times before to help the Revolution and that he won't have any trouble, but it terrifies her anyway. They have no means to communicate since phones are traceable, so they had to time their entire strategy around the clock. It seemed smart then, but now she's starting to regret it. What will happen if something goes wrong and they aren't able to let each other know? They'll both have to have faith in the other's ability not to get caught.

She finishes her tasks for a little while, and when the time comes she stands up. "I'm done for today, can I go? I'm a bit tired."

Evie nods without looking up. "Sure."

Alouette walks into the corridor and pretends to go towards the lift, keeping an eye on the time.

Half past four strikes and she turns around, making her way towards Harry's rooms. She walks fast but not fast enough for it to be noticeable.

She turns the corner and walks towards the door. She makes sure the corridor is clear and types in the code quickly. She holds her breath until it unlocks. She slides inside and closes it after herself.

Harry's rooms don't have cameras since he likes his privacy, and she can't help but be glad. At least she won't have to worry about Nathan's plan failing and her being recorded in the President's private rooms.

She glances around. She's in a living room, she's already been here once before. The door on her left is open and she can see what looks like a bedroom beyond it. Knowing Harry, he probably doesn't keep anything interesting in there. Someone as tidy and strict as he is wouldn't keep work-related things next to his bed.

It probably isn't in the living room as well. It would be way too exposed that way, and he's extremely skilled when it comes to keeping his secrets.

A door is on the right. She rushes past the black leather couch and opens it, immediately stopping in her tracks.

That room is completely dark, and she has to turn on the light. There's a desk pressed against what looks like a covered window on her left. On the right there's a painting. It takes her a few moments to recognise the face on it as the previous president since it's shredded. Harry's father.

Alouette shakes her head and moves closer to the desk, frowning when she notices a paper bird on the floor. Its wings are crumpled up, she wonders what happened to it. She catches herself soon after and checks the time again. She only has fifteen more minutes to get out of there without being seen. She has to concentrate.

She opens the first drawer of the desk and frowns at the amount of firearms in there. Harry surely likes to keep himself safe.

She closes it and opens the second. That one is full of throwing knives, in groups of three, of different sizes and shapes, encased sharp edge down in a blue velvet holder. It doesn't surprise her nearly as much as it should. She noticed he has experience with blades on the night of the celebration.

Alouette closes that one as well and goes for the third. It's empty, and so is the fourth. The last doesn't open. She tries to pick the lock with the two hairpins she prepared earlier that day, but it seems to be jammed.

She opens the one before and tries to take it out to access the contents of the last, but there's no use. She examines it attentively. There has to be a way to get in there. She traces the bottom of the fourth drawer with her finger and smiles when she notices the little trick. The bottom panel can be lifted.

With some difficulty she takes it out, furrowing her eyebrows when she unveils a small compartment with a notebook inside. The jammed drawer is a decoy, the secret is in the one right above. Smart. She expects nothing less from Harry.

She takes the book out. She feels like she's on a one on one contest with Harry. His challenges are well structured, but aren't good enough to keep her away from his secrets. At the moment, she's pretty sure she has the lead.

Alouette flicks through the pages quickly. He's clearly never thought anyone would be crazy enough to sneak into his private rooms, because he hasn't used any kind of secret code to categorise the information. Nathan was right, and it doesn't take her long to find the newest code for the library. Even though the temptation to stay there and read some more is strong, she knows she doesn't have enough time for that.

She takes a pen she finds there and writes the new code on the back of the paper she wrote the one of Harry's room on. She puts everything exactly how the found it and walks back to the main door.

There are voices in the corridor.

There are only four minutes left. Her heart is hammering in her chest.

The people don't seem to want to move. She's stuck in there.

A minute goes by and they don't move. Another passes by and the two voices are joined by a third one.

Two minutes left. If she doesn't get out in the next two minutes all the cameras in the corridor will film her exiting Harry's rooms. She feels sick.

Some seconds go by, and finally the voices start to move away.

Ninety seconds left.

They're a bit farther away.

Sixty.

Fifty.

Alouette can't hear them anymore. She opens the door and glances outside. It's clear.

She gets out fast.

Forty-two.

She walks down the corridor.

Thirty.

She turns the corner, presses her body against the wall and waits for Evie to be distracted before walking past.

Nineteen.

She reaches the lift and calls it.

Seven.

The lift comes. She steps inside and presses the button. The doors close.

Two.

She lets out the breath she didn't even know she was holding.

Step one was a success.

She gets out of the lift and goes back to her room. She has exactly an hour before the next phase.

It's the change of the guard. Nathan was able to cover a shift and gain access to the cameras for a couple of hours, but that was only from three to five. They're gonna have to use another technique for the next phase.

Alouette changes into more comfortable clothes and lies down on the bed. Adrenaline is still running through her veins, and it takes her a while to calm down.

She forces herself to wait around and do nothing for the next hour or so.

When the clock strikes six she gets out of her room, keeping an eye on the cameras of her floor. As Nathan has previously told her, there's no camera that points directly at the lift on the less important floors. That means she only has to wait for the corridor to be clear before sneaking into the secret passage unseen.

She makes her way down the stairs and stops on the floor of the library.

She checks the time on her phone once again.

Two more minutes go by, and she gets out of the secret passage. She looks at the camera that points straight to the door of the lift on that floor and smiles to herself when she notices green light isn't on. The camera isn't on. Everything is going according to plan.

Since it wasn't possible for them to loop the cameras again, they decided to cut off the electricity for that floor only. The electrical system of the Palace is sectioned to make sure the entire building won't be affected by small damages— which means that if anyone can get into the generators they'll be able to power off single floors. Nathan has already had proof that the cameras don't work if there isn't electricity, so it's almost too easy to sneak around the Palace from the inside. Nobody is supposed to visit the library today that they know of, so they hope it'll be a while before someone notices something's wrong.

The door of the library is secured both by a code and a lock. She smiles when she remembers Nathan's words when they visited his apartment.

You can never be too careful when you have things to hide. A door locked by two different mechanisms is harder to get through.

It looks like Harry has some secrets to hide in there.

Alouette puts in the code and picks the lock. It takes her less than a minute to get through.

She steps inside and looks at the camera that's pointing at the door of the library, it's off as well.

Harry likes to keep his secrets, so it's the only camera in there. She studies its path and disregards all the shelves it points to. If he made sure there wouldn't be many cameras in there it means he doesn't like to be spied. It wouldn't make sense to keep the books where the security guards can see them.

It'll take a while.

•     •     •

Harry's arms are crossed as he stares into the room.

The dark-haired woman smiles, leaning her head on her hand and patting the space next to her on the bed. "Aren't you going to come here?"

She's still wearing her uniform, her name on a tag over her left breast. Her fingers still smell of the alcohol she accidentally spilled onto her hand when she saw him enter the Den.

"I've got to admit you look delicious today, Harry. You always do though, don't you?" Her tone is playful, but there's a nervous edge in it. They've been in her bedroom for the past five minutes, but he still hasn't made a move to get rid of any of his pieces of clothing, and she surely noticed. They're usually more practical than that.

"Cut it, Kiara," he says, and realisation downs in her deep azure eyes. "We both know this went on for way too long."

She sits up, a frown on her face. "Am I not enough for you anymore?" Her gaze darkens. "I like what we have going on. It reminds me of all the fun times we had at the Palace."

He hisses. "Don't mention it so loudly, you never know who might be listening. You cannot blow your cover, not now."

Kiara sighs and stands up, removing her tag from her black shirt and throwing it on her bed. Harry can distinctly read the name Olive on it from where he's standing. He gave her that name when he took her out of the Palace and to safety. They go back of too many years for there to be only their usual unspoken agreement between them.

"Okay, Harry. Let's have a real conversation. What's up?"

He glances out in the corridor to make sure nobody is there and closes the door, walking into the room and picking up her name tag. "I promised I'd protect you, didn't I?" She gives him a nod, the sarcastic look disappearing from her eyes in the moment she understands the severity of the situation. "It isn't safe for you in Northfair."

"I thought they'd stopped meddling in your business."

He lets out a sour laugh. "Will they ever?" He throws the name tag to her. "They're making progress, if you stay here they'll take you down."

She glares at him, but Harry knows he isn't the one she despises. "So what, am I just supposed to flee the city and leave you here with them?"

"I can fend for myself if it comes to that," he reassures her. "I'd prefer not having to take such drastic measures though, so go to Dacran and don't look back. They won't find you there." He takes something out of the inner pocket of the jacket of his suit. "Here's your passport. It's legit, so it'll pass every test." He throws it to her and she catches it easily.

"I can only imagine the amount of threats and bribing it took to have this done quietly, what a thoughtful gift," she jokes, and he chuckles.

"I'm not the powerless boy I used to be fifteen years ago, Kiara. You'd be surprised by all the things I can get done quietly now."

She gives him a little smile and puts the passport in the pocket of her trousers. Harry never understood how a place like the Den, hidden away in one of the most troubled areas of the city, could have such a normal work uniform. After all, it isn't like its patrons are particularly high-end— aside from him, of course. But he likes it like that, nobody is in a high enough position to tell anyone what they've seen in here.

"Don't worry your pretty head over it, sweets,"she tells him, and even though he would usually remind her not to refer to him in such a way while they aren't playing, he doesn't bother doing that now. "I won't let them get me. How's my cousin, by the way?"

"Mr. Bryce is doing well, I suppose. I moved him into my personal guard, I'll keep a close eye on him." His gaze darkens. "Even though he's taking way too many liberties at the moment."

Kiara hums and crosses her arms over her chest. "Is that jealousy I see? You look murderous." The corners of her lips turn up. "Let me guess, was he too friendly with one of your birds? He's always been like that."

"Kiara—"

"Lark, wasn't it?" She insists, and he has to turn around to hide the faint blush that paints his cheeks when he remembers that one embarrassing time he called out her name. "Is it her actual name, or is it an affectionate nickname you gave her yourself?"

He sends her a glare from over his shoulder. "I believe that's none of your business."

"Oh Harry, what will you even do after I leave Northfair?" she murmurs, walking closer to him and putting her hand on his arm. "You can tell me if you want, you know. I'm not foolish enough to believe you ever had feelings for me, you won't break my heart or anything."

"You know I don't do romance."

"I know," Kiara replies, "but it wouldn't be a bad thing if you chose to, though. It's okay to want more than just power from time to time."

"Love is but the prelude of death," Harry says. "It destroys more than it builds. It's a fictional tale people tell themselves to give themselves a reason to go on in this dismal world of ours." 

"Always so negative."

"I'm not negative, I'm realistic. I've seen enough to know it isn't worth it."

"You're only twenty-six, Harry. Some would say you're too young to say you know everything."

"I know enough."

Kiara chuckles and shakes her head, walking back towards the bed. "I'll miss you, Harry. We've had lots of fun together." She sends him a mischievous look over her shoulder. "If you ever want to play again, come find me in Dacran. I'll be waiting."

He hums, glancing around the bedroom. It's a small room in the upper floors of the Den. The strip of an awkward orange neon light is behind the bed, impossible to turn off. The owner says it's for safety reasons since there are no windows, but Harry isn't so sure. He hates and loves that place. He hates it because whenever he comes here he ends up feeling like he has to wash sin off his body, but loves it because it's the only one that guarantees him some kind of anonymity. He should've stopped coming here a long time ago, but old habits never die and he and Kiara have a very long history of finding comfort and relief in each other.

It surprises him to realise that he'll miss her as well.

They've never been friends, not in the proper meaning of the word, but they've always understood each other on a different level. It's only thanks to her and his sister if his early childhood didn't absolutely suck. They lost sight of each other when his father stole him away when he was twelve but they met again the first time he properly rebelled to his father when he was eighteen, and that was when their peculiar relationship of sorts sparked. After all, there weren't many things to do at the Palace for two young adults like they were.

"I've never understood why you chose to work in this place," he admits, scrunching up his nose in distaste. He could've easily had her work at a high-end restaurant, or at any place that isn't as filthy as the Den. While he does agree that it's the perfect place to hide, he also knows it isn't the only one.

Kiara shrugs. "Being a waitress here is a good deal," she tells him. "Sure, the drunk idiots here keep hitting on me and then I have to kick their sorry ass, but the owners pay for my meals and give me somewhere to sleep. And then I can meet my favourite President in my bedroom instead of having to worry about getting a hotel room." She winks at him, and he rolls his eyes.

"I could've helped you pay for an apartment."

"Ha! But then I'd owe you, and I don't like that."

For a moment Harry wonders if he should be offended by that, but then decides against it. "Oh, really? Why's that?"

Kiara crosses her legs and leans back on her hands. "We both know that getting help from you is like making a deal with the devil, Harry." She gives him an innocent smile. "I've seen you fuck over too many people over the past twenty years to ever think of becoming one of them."

He puts his hand over his heart. "You know I'd never do it to you, Kiara."

She hums and looks at the ceiling, recalling a memory. "Remember when you found out one of the cooks was cheating on his wife with a secretary when you were seven?" She asks him. "We snuck into the kitchen together and you threatened to tell everything both to his wife and your father if he didn't make your favourite dessert for you every night for a month straight." She shoots him a side-glance. "I should've known you were trouble then. Who in their right mind would go through all that trouble for cheesecake?"

Harry chuckles. "With caramel sauce, though."

Kiara gives him an understanding nod. "Mr. Jenkins's caramel sauce was the best, you're right. Does he still work at the Palace?"

"He quit soon after."

"I bet he's regretting it now, working for you seems a good deal," she jokes, and he doesn't know if she's just saying it or if she's trying to reassure him.

"It only seems that way, Kiara."

She laughs. "Oh, Harry. You've changed so much." She looks at the name tag in her hand. "You needn't worry, I'll go. I won't let those bastards win. Why are they even so focused on investigating your father's death?"

He shrugs and leans back against the door. "They hate me, they can't wait to find evidence against me."

She gives him a bored look. "Why haven't you already got rid of them?"

"Do you know how it'd look like if I were to suddenly get rid of them all? The people would revolt."

"You should take them down quietly then, one by one, over time. Just a suggestion."

Harry smiles and shakes his head. "Oh, Kiara. I missed your vengeful spirit."

"I'm just worried you'll let this whole thing swallow you up."

"Don't worry about me, I have plans. Soon everyone will be under my control."

"I know that. You've never let anyone defeat you. I guess that's what I liked about you."

He hums. "Goodbye," he tells her, "you'd better leave fast if you want to stand a chance against them." He turns around and opens the door. "One more thing," he adds, glancing at her. "Don't wait for me in Dacran. Let's end it here, we're both too old to keep this up." He walks out without waiting for her to say a word.

Harry goes down the stairs and hides his face with his hand as he steps out on the street. He got there much earlier than usual so the sun still hasn't set, and he doesn't want anyone to recognise him.

He gets in his black car and sends a quick look at the guard behind the steering wheel. "Back to the Palace, Mathias."

•     •     •

Alouette has been walking around the library for the past thirty-five minutes. So far she hasn't had any luck, and she's starting to think they got it all wrong.

It's hopeless.

She leans back on a shelf and lets out a sigh, closing her eyes. That won't do. She's wasting time and putting herself in danger. Maybe she should just give up before she loses everything she worked so hard for. If Harry catches her there, it'll be over for her.

Alouette opens her eyes again, staring into nothing. She's getting nowhere.

She straightens herself and starts to walk away, but a familiar green shade catches her attention from the corner of her eye.

She gasps and runs towards it, taking one of the books off the shelf and almost crying when she reads the title.

Nathan was right. There are ten copies there, one right next to the other. How hasn't she noticed before?

She opens the copy in her hand and flicks through the pages to get to the one that she remembers was missing. She's so close to discovering another little piece of her father's mystery, and his heart is beating violently against her ribcage. She's so excited that she feels sick.

Page 127.

Alouette almost cries when she gets to it and discovers it's there.

The poem there has no title. Odd. She leans back against the bookshelf and reads the first lines.

The walls
are whispering

I don't trust
my own shadow

the silence
is talking

She frowns. What is that poem even about? It's nothing alike the other ones in the book. But there's another detail that makes it all even weirder.

The poem goes on for twelve more lines, but they're all cancelled out. Someone took a pen and wrecked them all. It's impossible to make sense of anything else. The word silence is underlined and talking is circled so violently that the pen broke through the page.

She puts it back and takes another copy. It's ruined in the same exact way. She takes another, and another, and another. They're all the same. A chill runs down her spine.

What is going on?

She checks one more, and it's still the same thing. She pulls another out and opens it to the page. It's missing there. She takes another, and her heart drops when she discovers that the entire page is black. There seem to be many small messages scribbled on it, but they're all cancelled out. She turns the page to see what's behind it and gasps when she sees the end of the poem.

A single word isn't cancelled out in the second to last line. It's heavily circled, and it brings back a memory.

Run.

Run.

Silence. Talking. Run.

Run from the silence.

Her father wrote that sentence at the end of her copy.

What's the silence? Who's talking? Is there something he wants her to run away from?

She shakes her head quickly and opens another copy, feeling sick to her stomach.

This one is just as ruined as the one before, with the only difference that one of the handwritten lines isn't deleted. She goes to read it, and the blood freezes in her veins.

It's in her father's handwriting.

The silence has been its loudest lately. And you?

Tears pool in her eyes and she lets out a sob before she can stop herself. The words seem so familiar, so safe, so caring that for some moments all she does is cry, her fingertips grazing the sentence. She crouches on the ground and tries to keep more sobs from breaking through, holding the book to her chest.

For a second, she feels like a child all over again, playing in her father's study and trying to solve the little riddles he prepared just for her. It's so foolish but it makes her feel so good, her hands are trembling and she's bawling and choking on her own breath but smiling.

But she has no time to even ask herself what it all means because of a sudden she hears a click and a light turns on.

Alouette widens her eyes as sheer terror shoots through her body and stands up quickly. She quickly puts all the books back in their place and moves closer to the door.

There shouldn't be light. There shouldn't be electricity.

Her fear is confirmed when she glances at the camera, making sure that she's hidden from it, and discovers that the green light is on.

The electricity is on again.

She's stuck inside.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki